Ruins
by Darknesse Sidhe
Summary: The Will dealing with the disappearance of Cheshire.


**You're probably already expecting this, but I don't own Pandora Hearts.**

**Some people get confused easily about the concept and differences between Alice the Will of the Abyss, and Alice the B-Rabbit, so for the purposes of this FanFiction, and to avoid confusion, Alice the Will of the Abyss will be called Alyss like, for some reason, lots of people call her, and Alice the B-Rabbit will be called Alice. However, remember that Alyss will still occasionally be referred to as Alice, because that's her name after all.**

Ruins:

The girl sleeps quietly and restfully on her circular bed, with her long white hair spilling over the white and violet pillows supporting her head. Her breathing is slow and she is still. Despite her peaceful composure, however, angry and violent dreams swirl through her mind – dreams of stone, wood, memories and metal crumbling away to darkness as lights flash, shadows surge, and screams and shouts ring through the destruction. She turns her head, twitching slightly in discomfort.

After a long moment her dreams fade and she opens her violet eyes, staring up at the ceiling above the roofless canopy about her bed with a distant expression on her face, as if wondering about someone or something. She stays like that for a lingering second, her pale eyes flickering as they trace patterns in the ceiling above her – and then she shudders, turning so she's slightly on her side and curling up a bit over the fair, quilted covers, as if withdrawing from the world slightly in that moment.

She shuddered because of a sense of inexplicable, unexplained horror had washed over her like the tide, and she shivers slightly now, curling up as if cold, because the sense of apprehension and dread only grows as she lies there. Something, somewhere, is wrong. Something important in her perfectly dark and chaotic land has been destroyed, and she knows it. Her wonderfully anarchic order of the world has been tipped and tilted somehow, and although she doesn't know what, her trustworthy instincts give her a warning in the form of a strong, unrelenting sense of cold foreboding.

Slowly, she sits up, and gazes around her room. With a dark blue ceiling, violet walls, and scarlet curtains hanging from them, it's a dark, beautiful, but slightly eerie place, filled with a collection of things she'd managed to obtain over time – the bleached skull of a some victim who'd fallen into the Abyss; a handful of glittering, cursed rings that held no more lure for her anymore after she'd gotten used to their beauty; a full-length mirror for herself; a small hand mirror with a single crack down it, reminding her of how it broke during the painful Tragedy of Sablier; her clothing; and a few odd, old candlesticks in a candelabra, along with other things. A few random golden lights dance about her room, lighting up objects, flitting in and out like playful fairies – pieces of the Abyss that follow her around or stay in her room and usually do what she wants them too.

Her eyes drift over and lock on a small, round brass object lying on a nightstand across the room, threaded through with a red ribbon. At once, her sense of horror surges and for some reason she has to force herself to swallow a newly arrived lump in her throat before she stands and walks over to it.

She picks up the bell, which on its own grows warm and heavy as it jingles once in her palm. The girl's fingers curl around it and she sighs slightly, seeing her own sad-looking reflection in the somewhat reflective material, a bit twisted and odd due to the round shape of the bell.

Her lone knight Cheshire had given it to her. It wasn't like his other bell, which held the memories of the _other_ girl, which both Alices had made him swear to guard, a long, long time ago. This one is just … a bell. But she remembers the feeling she'd gotten when she looked at it, and her eyes widen as fear clenches like a cold stone within her. Living in the Abyss, being almost one with the Abyss, had born within her instincts, a sense of intuition that reacted to almost everything around her.

Which meant something was wrong with Cheshire.

Her head turns and looks across the room, although there's no one else in there except for the lights, and in the room beyond, her shelves of dolls.

"Cheshire?" she calls out, softly, tilting her head as if trying to listen better.

There's no reply, and she tries again, louder this time.

"Cheshire?" she says, turning and stepping forward to the center of the room with the planked wood and carpet smooth and soft under her bare feet. "Are you there? Come here."

She stops in the center of the room, bell in hand, her gaze darkening with concern as the irregular clock ticks.

_He's late_, she thinks. _He's_ never _late_. Some chains were slow to react, but never Cheshire, who was always there at a call. Knights who were late didn't get the princess; they were sneered at by the princess and eaten by the dragon. And Cheshire knew better than to be late at _Alyss_'s cry.

She knows he heard her – he _should_ have heard her. He was a chain and a special one at that, made into one with her own hands, and in any case, all chains were supposed to hear her when she called, and come or reply when she called.

Unless they couldn't come.

Unless they couldn't hear.

Unless they were _dead_.

Her grip loosens, and the bell falls out of her hand and onto the floor, jingling as it bounces once and rolls a few feet away.

As if in a dream, she turns towards the full-length mirror against the wall, walking towards it.

A little, dancing, golden light is already there, waiting for her, falling gently into her palm when she extends her hand and her fingers grasp it.

But is it just her, or is the light smaller than she remembers it?

The light is warm in her palm, but quickly heats up. She waits, ignoring the pain that always comes, until it feels as hot as the sun.

Then she throws it into the mirror, her palm shoving it right through the glass, where it disappears, vanishing from sight as the glass ripples like slow-moving water where the orb of light was pushed through.

Behind her, the other lights twitter melodiously in mild excitement like birds.

The surface of the mirror smoothes out again, and then begins to change its colour, dimming and getting shaded over with yellow, making the reflections in it hazy and blurry, even her own. Soon the mirror's glass is a soft, liquid-like golden glow, like the sun just breaking over the horizon.

Alyss moves as if to step _into_ the mirror, but then stops. Hesitating. Because she's not sure if she wants to see what's on the other side of it.

She thinks of Cheshire on the other side, in the little dimension constructed out of her twin sister's memories. Cheshire, probably alone and maybe hurt. Or maybe, she thinks, he's not there after all. Maybe he's dead.

Fear clenches in her heart again. Not used to feeling concerned, or even afraid, for someone, she blinks in mild surprise; she doesn't know it, but it looks like she's blinking back tears.

"Please don't be dead," she whispers, and then summons her courage and steps through, melting into the glass even as it ripples around her as she disappears.

When she's gone the mirror clears again, returning to its original state.

For a moment, lights and sparks dance around her like butterflies swarming, and when they disappear, she finds herself standing on a half-crumbled balcony that host, on either side, half-crumbled stairs. She looks forward and gasps, rushing forward and leaning over the edge, her hands clenching the railing that digs slightly into her stomach. She doesn't notice, her eyes taking in the destruction in dismay.

Everything in that dimension is still and quiet, except for the distant rumbles of more architecture going to pieces in the backround. Before her lies beheaded statues, scattered pieces of torn toys, a few scraps of rags that were once billowing curtains, torn-off railings, and broken pieces of checkerboard floor, all floating amongst the darkness of the Abyss, having crumbled against it not very long ago – half an hour at the utter most, five minutes at very least.

There was also sand, floating in the air before dissipating. It doesn't take her long to figure out where it's coming from, when she watches with an almost fascinated expression the edges of the balcony below her crumble into sand before disappearing a little while later.

Dazed, she realizes what's happening a moment too late. She quickly and slightly desperately turns to back up on the balcony, but it crumbles beneath her bare feet and she falls down into the darkness below with a scream of alarm that seems to bounce off into the ruins of the doomed dimension.

She lets out a shout and immediately her fall slows, even as she watches the remains of the balcony and the stairs fall down after her, before crashing, breaking, and crumbling against an invisible force, although the sand that flows from it continues to fall a few more feet before dissolving itself.

_Sand_, she thinks as her fall slows to a stop as she lands on a piece of checkerboard-patterned piece of floor. As the Will of the Abyss, this naturally isn't the first time she'd witnessed a rapidly dying dimension, but none of them had started turning into sand and stone like this one is.

Which means … that the Mad Hatter had been here. The Mad Hatter, the chain that negates any and all things related to the Abyss. She feels a pang of deep regret for ever making that chain, even though she remembers that the Mad Hatter is the "legal" chain of the man, that man with the red eye, who promised to fulfill her wish. (She keeps track of these things.) As if any contract could be considered legal or illegal.

She looks around, and knows that if she wants to find Cheshire in this chaos, she would have to stop this destruction. The Hatter is strong, but not as strong as the Will, and she lifts her hands and everything that was crumbling away stops breaking and freezes where they are.

She feels sad as she gazes around, recognizing parts of the dimension from back when it was whole. Even though it had consisted of _her_ memories, she'd liked it in a vague way. She decides that if she finds Cheshire – _if_ she finds Cheshire, she thinks with a wince – she'll rebuild it. She can't do it without those later memories of Alice's life, but she knows that if Cheshire is alive, he will have those memories. She knows that Cheshire would die before letting someone take them, especially since Alyss wanted him to guard them too.

But if Hatter had been here ….

She shudders, thinking of her fall from the balcony and her scream, dread flowing over her once again. If Cheshire was alive at that time, surely he would've heard of it, and come to help her even though he knows she would've done it herself, even if it killed him, because that was the kind of person he was.

She runs, and leaps off the floating piece of floor and onto another, beginning her search.

After a while, something small, dark, and fluttering catches her eye. Alyss twists around to face it, and sees a small black feather fluttering into the darkness. Almost reflectively, she lunges out and catches it in her hand, bringing it up to her nose and breathing in deeply, inhaling the familiar scent.

Raven had been here too.

Although the Abyss, and not her, created Raven long before her time, Raven is still a chain, and because she is a chain, she remembers it, Raven who was made from the body of an early Glen Baskerville, and somewhat dimly recalls his contractor, who suddenly becomes a little more important when she remembers the boy Raven's contractor had been with when she'd met them – _that boy_, the one with her Jack's soul.

A crease appears between her brow as she lets the feather go and continues on.

The feather drops, fluttering back and forth, and disappears into the dark of the Abyss.

She finds a few more feathers here and there, but pays them no attention, because thanks to the first one she already knows Raven was here, and doesn't need any more proof to put emphasis on that fact further. She ducks behind floating pillars, leaps over crumbling walls, and dodges chunks of floating marble left over from the Cheshire Cat's dimension's foundations, trying not to think about how eerily quite everything is without everything rumbling as it breaks apart, which it isn't anymore thanks to her and her power.

Many long minutes pass as she searches the wreckage for any sign of her knight. Soon it's been over half an hour and she's fighting back tears despite her usual coldness towards her subjects. She knows she can dip into her reserve of power that comes with being the Will, and find out whether he's alive or not, but she restrains herself from doing so, because she'd rather not find out so fast. But she thinks he isn't – alive, that is, because she already used the power to track him, and was unable to ….

"Cheshire!" she shouts for what feels like the millionth time, stepping into the dying remains of a hall as she gazes about worriedly. To her surprise, she feels something warm and wet trickle down from her eyes and across her cheek. In alarm, she lifts her hand to touch it, afraid that it might be blood – but it's clear and, she finds out when she puts her dampened fingers to her lips, salty.

Tears.

Immediately, Alyss feels a small burst of anger. How _dare_ Cheshire make her cry like this so obviously in public by hiding from her! He was her knight, and not only were knights supposed to stay with their princess, and even more importantly come when she called, they were supposed to make her feel happy, not sad. She felt outraged that he drove her to this.

Furiously she steps forward so she's in the center of the hall, and then furiously wipes away her tears, somewhat violently, before putting her hands on her hips, planting her feet apart, and lifting her head in defiance, her eyes narrowed.

"Cheshire!" she shouts angrily into empty space. "I can't believe you made me cry like that! You know I hate it when I cry. But you made me do it anyways! What kind of knight are you? I called for you – I called and I called and I called, but you never came! Well you better come now, or I will make you regret it, you little annoying cat! CHESHIRE! COME HERE!"

She waits impatiently, her eyes seeming to blaze with all the emotion they contain. But the irregular clock ticks, and minutes pass without a sound, so that all she can hear is her own breathing. She quiets her breathing down, letting her arms drop to her side, and leans forward a bit, straining her ears, her eyes widening as they attempt to catch even the tiniest flicker of a moving shadow.

But the only thing that passes is the time, and it passes right by her. Soon, she begins to regret even trying to scream at him, which seemed like such a good idea before, but not anymore now that her efforts have begun to prove fruitless.

She droops like a wilting flower, her shoulders tilting downwards on an angle.

"Cheshire?" she whispers, and winces at how pathetic she sounds. She is the Will – she has to be strong. But no matter how hard she tries, for the moment she cannot muster the energy to have the qualities the Will should have. For a moment, though she hates it, she must admit that she is nothing but a sad little helpless girl asking for her friend.

Although she could probably kill anyone who dares come at her if she tried, she reassures herself with.

Meanwhile, her whisper carries and bounces off the walls, echoing softly back at her.

_Cheshire … Cheshire … Cheshire …._

Alyss begins to walk forward again, although now with less energy and vigor, her paced steps tentative and slow, almost afraid. As is the rest of her.

She searches the remainder of the ruined place inside and out, hunting through every nook, cupboard, cramped corner, and cranny she can find. She doesn't find _him_, though.

Then she comes across the hall of mirrors. She remembers this place well – it had a nasty but amusing (to her and Chess) habit to suck in unwelcome intruders into a whirl of tormented past, as long as they had one. And in this dark world, who didn't?

The mirrors aren't there anymore, however, and the room is halfway ruined – she's getting sick of that word, "ruined". All throughout the world, everything is ruined. The whole theme, she feels with a brief stab of annoyance, is overused. The mirrors have been broken into pieces, most of them floating around in the remains of the room, although they part around Alyss as she walks forward, her eyes never straying from the torn piece of cloth she saw on the floor.

She goes on her knees before it, and almost gingerly picks it up with her hands, lifting it to her face so she can see it even better.

Doubtless, it is – was – Cheshire, or at least part of him or his clothing. She can still sense some of his essence on it, and can smell his scent looming heavily about it.

(Being the Will, she could do these kinds of things.)

Of the Cat himself, she could not sense him at all.

She knows she can't take it anymore – she has to know, is he alive, or is he dead? Dreading the fact that she knows, in the core of her soul, the answer already.

She dips into her reserve of power, the air shimmering around the torn piece of cloth in her hands slightly. She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening as she realized that

He's dead.

He spent his last few moments, she finds, in a frustrated, angry, frightened, panicked frenzy as he desperately fights a smiling silver-haired man with a red eye just like his, parrying the flashing sword even as he realized he's fighting a battle he can't win, but he continues because he has to – _for her sake …._

So she screams, a scream that launches through the air, practically tearing through the silence as if it's paper, echoing through all the dimensions of the Abyss, infused with all her anger, grief, and sorrow as she realizes that he died, died trying to protect her, killed by _that man_, of all the irony, the one who had promised to grant her wish. But right now that doesn't matter – all that matters is that Cheshire died.

Suddenly she finds herself breathless, drained of energy. The cloth fluttering out of her hands, she collapses onto the stone floor, the tears already streaking down her cheeks.

A series of memories run flash across her mind – Cheshire as a cat, newly killed and blinded by Vincent, stumbling to her on uneven feet; turning Cheshire from a cat to a human with bandages around his eyes, forging his new body with magic and golden lights spinning about her, not knowing he would be sitting on the cushion by her as she ruled over the Abyss from then on; both Alices, demanding that he guard the memories of Alice the B-Rabbit; Cheshire dancing with her gleefully under a shower of scarlet blood; putting that man Break's scarlet eye into his wide, clawed hand, watching as he undoes the bandages and puts it within as the power of the Abyss connects the nerves together; smiling as he blinks and sees her, Alyss the Will of the Abyss, for the first time.

She sees through her vision blurred by tears a softly glowing golden light floating towards her – another one, she thinks, realizing dimly in the back of her mind that this one is the portal back to her quarters deep in this dark place. Not caring even when the light touches her, growing hotter and hotter, until finally it flashes and envelopes her in golden light, right before everything goes black.

She calmly closes her eyes and lets her consciousness drift away like a lone leaf down a clear, rapidly flowing stream.

It feels like only seconds again when she regains it, but from the stiffness of her neck and spine and the way her snow-white hair is clinging to her skin – not even she is immune to these mundane little characteristics – she knows she's been sleeping for a lot longer then that. As she slowly sits up and opens her eyes, which was stiff and shut together with the remnants of salty tears, she is met with a cascading chorus of happy, somewhat eerily high-pitched, haunting babbling voices.

"_Alyss! Alyss! Alyss! Alyss is awake, Alyss is awake_!" the dolls, puppets, and stuffed animals chanted, clear and cheerful. "_Oooh, now we can have a tea-party! A tea-party, don't be late for the tea-party, because Alyss is awake, Alyss is awake, she's here, let's have a tear party!"_

She blinks several times, and then rubs her eyes with her hands. Once she has she takes a look around, though she doesn't need to to know that she's in her tearoom, the one with all the dolls.

"_A tea-party, Alyss! Are you in the mood for a tea-party, Alyss, are you? We're going to have a tea-party, a wonderful one because it's almost six o'clock, and we're going to have delicious foods and wonderful things, and we're going to go about the Abyss and visit the chains and have an amazing time, at least Alyss is, aren't you Alyss, won't you?"_

Usually she loves and is amused by their random, flowing, never-ending monologue of babble, saying every thought they had or she had without a moment's notice as any newcomers or intruders looked on in shock or any other of varying expressions, but today she is in a foul, bitter mood. She thinks of Cheshire's death, and her face momentarily contorts in pain.

She cannot tolerate her dolls, however loyal and loving towards her they may be, today.

"_Be quiet_," she says intensely and angrily, glaring up at them with those violet orbs seeming to pierce right through them. Instantly they fall silent, a series of _clack-clack-clack_ sounds bouncing quietly off the room as some of the marionettes shut their wooden mouths. From them a few eyelids flutter restlessly and a few heads tilt as they look at her, but they kept their peace. Thank the Abyss.

Wobbling, Alyss gets to her feet, gathering up her pride and walking with her head held high towards her room, pushing back the dark curtain that covers the entrance, and stepping into her small private chamber. Her eyes flicker and land on the brass bell she had dropped on the floor, still there, its ribbons trailing over the floor. Her mouth pressing into a thin line, she goes still and very, very white.

Finally, after what feels like forever, she whispers with a dry mouth, "Goodbye, Cheshire," and crawls onto her bed, ready to slide back into a fit of restless dreams if only to escape the pain of her waking days. Her ability to adapt to her surroundings and her situations works quickly, and no more tears come. In a few days, her grief will be nothing but a passing remorse – but it will always be remorse.

She falls back onto her pillows, knowing. Knowing that, if that man Break hadn't promised to grant her wish, she would start hunting him to kill him right now. Knowing that, when he does grant her wish, she might kill him right away anyways.

Exhausted although she already slept on the floor of her tearoom, her eyes close and her breathing slows. Time passes uneasily in the Abyss, as uneasily as their Will's dreams both waking and sleeping.

**End.**

**Hopefully not too OOC ….**

**Review!**


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